


Anything at all

by Veto_power_over_clocks



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, Vignette, Written after seeing the first movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veto_power_over_clocks/pseuds/Veto_power_over_clocks
Summary: After everything is over (when the repairs are done, when every no-maj has forgotten and likely cover stories have been made up for everything that couldn’t be fixed with magic), Queenie takes Tina’s hand and asks her to talk about anything that she can think of.





	Anything at all

**Author's Note:**

> I saw FBAWTFT back in 2016, wrote a lot of stuff that would potentially become a fic, and never finished anything. I found this vignette while going through my files and realized I still liked it, so I fixed it a bit and decided to post it.
> 
> Enjoy!

After everything is over (when the repairs are done, when every no-maj has forgotten and likely cover stories have been made up for everything that couldn’t be fixed with magic), Queenie takes Tina’s hand and asks her to talk about anything that she can think of, because the shift from having spent the last hour listening to cries for help and screams of terror to listening to the dullness of the city’s everyday’s comings and goings makes the thoughts flowing into Queenie’s mind eerily quiet. She needs a reminder that they’re all alive.

What she also needs is something to distract her from Jacob’s mind, the last glimpses she caught before the three of them disapparated – how his fear of losing them slowly faded and gave way to confusion, how his regret at not taking the risk of going somewhere with her became regret for not having an umbrella with him.

They’ve being doing this for years, Tina and Queenie. Some nights, at Ilvermorny, Queenie would wake up scared and Tina’s mind would be indistinguishable from those of the other sleepers in the school, so Queenie would walk to the Thunderbird rooms, slip inside and wake up Tina. For the next hour, Tina would whisper old stories that Queenie knew by heart, or tell her what she’d been dreaming of, the right words coming to her mind as easily as magic flowed from her wand. Tina had always known what to say and had always had a story ready for Queenie, even years later, when the nights per year in which Queenie had needed her sister’s help could be counted with the fingers of one hand.

Today, Tina doesn’t know what to say - her thoughts are about Credence and how she couldn’t save him, about Percival Graves and how they don’t know where he is, about Jacob and how they couldn’t let him stay, about Newt and the apology she feels she owes him. She keeps replaying the last day in her mind, can’t keep herself from it long enough to find something to talk about, so she clings to a golden moment from those hours, holds onto a happy memory of camaraderie and gentle teasing and starts singing Ilvermorny’s anthem.

It’s enough to bring a small smile to Queenie’s face.

They walk to their building holding hands like they used to when they were kids, with Newt following just a few steps behind, his thoughts a mess that Queenie doesn’t have the energy to untangle.

The three of them enter the building quietly, careful not to alert Mrs. Esposito of Newt’s presence, and when they finally enter the apartment they pick different spots in which to collapse.

“Is anyone hurt?” Queenie asks.

Both Tina and Newt seem startled by the question, and only then it occurs to them to think about the condition they’re in. Tina shakes her head slowly and Newt… he says ‘No’ in the smallest voice possible and doesn’t look at either of them, focuses intently on a spot on the floor as if that could keep Queenie from noticing how he’s hunched over. There's a small comfort in the fact that he isn’t pain.

“Was anyone hurt?” Queenie asks, just to be sure.

The answer is a quick memory of pain. Newt’s pain. She looks sharply at him, which gets Tina to look at him as well, and he seems to shrink under their gazes.

“Grindelwald…” he says, and makes a vague gesture with his hand, as if that explains everything. In some way it does, because Queenie sees it and Tina guesses, and Newt’s giving them an apologetic smile, as if being hit by curses had been his fault.

She looks at their tired faces, looks at her own hands and thinks of Jacob, wishes he could be there so they could all heal together. The three of them will have to do their best on their own.

Queenie stands up, goes to the kitchen and gets ready to prepare a hot drink, something for frayed nerves, aching bones and heavy hearts, but as soon as she looks at the table where they’d all had dinner together she starts crying, finally free to do so now that she knows her sister is alive, now that they aren’t in immediate danger, now that she doesn’t need to stay focused and sharp.

Tina holds back her own tears and hugs Queenie, while Newt hovers at the kitchen door, thoughts running through his head until he comes to a decision and sets to preparing cocoa while Queenie dries her eyes.

They drink together in silence at the kitchen table. It’s unbearable, Newt and Tina going through the same moments over and over again, so many times that Newt’s accent is no longer a problem for Queenie, because she knows the words by heart. She can feel their guilt, their frustration, and how each of them blames themselves.

“It’s not your fault,” Queenie says, putting her cup down and staring intently at the others.

“He was reacting to my voice,” Tina says, meeting her gaze.

“If I had gotten to him sooner…” Newt says, staring at some point behind Queenie.

“It’s not your fault,” Queenie repeats, standing up. “Please understand that. It’s not your fault. You didn’t give the order to kill.” Tina flinches at that, but doesn’t change her sad expression, although her displeasure with the system that had considered an extreme measure as the only solution is clear in her mind. Newt, on the other hand, looks furious for a moment, his jaw tensing, his eyes hardening, his grip on the cup tightening before he forces himself to relax. “You did all you could.”

They don’t believe her, but at least their thoughts stop circling around the same topic all the time.

That’ll have to do.

It’s all she can ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
